Mischievous
by rubyshards
Summary: In which Aerith plots, and Seifer remembers why he doesn't trust women. [LeonSeifer verse]


If there was one place in Hollow Bastion that Seifer could say he truly, really loved, it would have to be the Marketplace.

It was a complete contrast to the barren, cold alleyways and streets of the residential district, where he was stuck most of his time, cramped up in Leon's little house with the little windows and the little flower boxes that were filled with soft pastel yellows, which provided the only spot of bright color in the whole place. Bustling with reconstruction and merchants and customers, the Market was the central hub of the massive stone complex, and, walking with a bag of Munny Aerith had given him clacking in his pocket and a grin spread over his thin lips, Seifer decided it was the one place he really wouldn't mind spending his day.

Behind him, Aerith was carrying a whicker basket she had weaved for herself for the purpose of shopping, and Seifer could hear her soft footsteps behind him, a gentle click of her heels on the cobblestone ground. Keeping within distance of her presence, yet walking several paces ahead of her, he scanned the Market with an eager gleam in his jade eyes.

It was smaller than Twilight Town's market, yes, but the stores that lined the walls and sprung up from the wooden posts at the sides, covered in deep red and bright yellow and soft blue blankets to keep out the weather, were in greater number and were more unique than any of the little stores in Twilight Town. Weapon shops, armor shops, medicine shops, fruit stands, and a variety of other stores or minor businesses lined the brick walls, carved out like caves made of wood and cloth, and Seifer couldn't help but let a childish sense of interest get the better of him.

"It's nice, isn't it?" Seifer had been so lost in the sights and sounds of the Marketplace that he did not hear Aerith come up behind him, and only realized her presence when her hand had come to rest on his shoulder and her voice had been so close to his ear. Startled, he turned to her, doing his best to wipe his expression clean of the interest and enthrallment that he knew had been clearly spread upon his visage.

"It's a whole hell of a lot better than the one back home." He turned, his eyes scanning the weapon shop, a smirk spread over his lips as his gaze skimmed over swords, shields, poles, staffs, and an assortment of other weaponry. It seemed to him that the people of Hollow Bastion were doing their best to arm themselves against the strange creatures that had chased Seifer to this world. An itching in the palm of his hand and a burning in his fingertips made him want to march right up to that booth, purchase the coal-black blade in the back, regardless of its price, and train himself to fight on his own, rather than let Leon do all of the fighting. He was sick of remaining home during the risky hours of dawn and dusk, he was sick of sitting back and watching as Leon came home, bruised and cut, sometimes, weary and exhausted more often.

As if to sense where his thoughts had traveled, following his eyes to the rack he had stopped to watch with utmost intensity and seriousness, Aerith cleared her throat gently, snagging his attention once again.

"You may not believe it, but Leon is a good instructor, you know." Her voice held a hint of a woman's mischief behind it, and Seifer realized then and there why it was he rarely associated himself with women – they were conniving, that was for sure (he had seen what that one, Olette, had been able to do when she was angry, and he had experienced Fuu's rage first hand, after all).

"Like he'd agree." Seifer crossed his arms beneath the corners of his slate-gray trench coat, leaning forward to avoid a woman and her small boy who had been unwilling to step around him – it did not occur to him that he was the one standing in the middle of the walkway.

"Oh," she smiled, a faint, gentle grin that Seifer could swear looked a little devious and far too convincing to be a normal smile, "I'm sure we can persuade him."

With that, she swept up the edge of her skirt, wrapped her hand around Seifer's wrist, and dragged him to a small, sandy colored stand decorated with vibrant citruses and various other fruits that he had never seen before, all the while smiling that overzealous, sugary-sweet grin of hers.


End file.
